


synced

by habaki



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Sick Fic, and a couple others, claude is SufferingTM, no one has braincells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-08 02:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20279893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habaki/pseuds/habaki
Summary: “I suppose with your predicament, you wouldn’t know about this Professor?” Hanneman said, ever patient with the glimmer of an incomingCrestlecture shining in his eyes. “Every now and then a Crest bearer tends to get a bit sick. It’s a drawback of sorts, in exchange for the power of Crests."—Or how Crests are actually not that great sometimes.





	synced

**Author's Note:**

> i like to imagine crest bearers actually bearing their crests. was gonna write smth about someone getting mad and their cresting getting shiny but claude had to suffer for a little. also not beta read because my meat is huge
> 
> god if i know who to choose who's next so suggest someone else to get sick?

Claude skipping class in and of itself wasn’t strange. Knights, monks, and once even Seteth found him during study hours, lazing about in a field here or concocting another poison there. What was strange was that he was skipping _archery _practice, the only thing he ever willingly showed enthusiasm for. He loved to show off in every which way possible when facing a target, hitting bullseye after another and playfully gloating in Leonie’s direction every time. The heir once attended once with an unhealed cut on his arm gained from battle, so it’s hard to believe _anything _would’ve kept him away. It was natural that Byleth was concerned. It was _natural _that she would check up on someone she was concerned about.

Admittedly, when her statement of name and knocks against Claude’s dorm room were met with muffled curses, she was a _little_ less concerned, but still worried nonetheless. She expected pretty words stitched together in an attempt to avoid extracurricular when she entered with his quiet “Come in”, and definitely _not _a bundled wad of golden blankets sitting on his bed, shivering despite the cozy autumn weather.

“T-Teach…?” Pulled so tightly in on himself, Claude barely peered out from his fortress of cotton before burrowing back in. “Now’s… Not r-really a good time. It’s so _cold._” He sniffed long and hard and sounded absolutely _tortured_.

To say Byleth rushed to his side would’ve been an understatement.

Gingerly she took a seat next to his form, gently placing a hand where she thought his shoulder was, _feeling _the cold through the obscene amounts of layers. It was baffling, and when his hand shakily crawled out from under his shield, she allowed it to grasp her hand and drag into under the blankets.

“Teaaaach, you’re sooo _warm_.” It was good that Claude sounded appreciative, seeing that it was nearly _frigid_ underneath despite all the damn layers. Byleth, by all means, was at a loss as to what to do with Claude clutching her quickly freezing hand and seemingly growing more comfortable as time went on.

It was a surprise when salvation came in the form of Professor Hanneman, but she’ll take what she gets if it means regaining sensation in for fingers.

“Ah, Professor! Checking in on our young duke here I presume? A model teacher, you are.” Hanneman smiled from the doorway, Claude groaning in response to his presence and causing his breath to pass over Byleth’s hand, dropping its temperature even lower. She wiggled it to escape out of Claude’s grasp, scooting to make room for Hanneman as he kneeled beside the bed, still worried but _perplexed_ as to just what was going on. She watched as the elder pulled down the covers and ignored Claude’s pathetic whine, using his arms to shield his eyes from the sudden light. Still in his sleeping clothes (his _winter _sleeping clothes), he blinked bleary eyes and slowly sat up while rubbing his hands together, clearly unhappy now that his armor was stripped from him.

The mystery to his ailment only grows as Byleth looks at Claude’s eyes, seeing something that definitely _wasn’t_ ordinary.

They were still a shade of dazzling emerald green, more unfocused than usual but still carrying the unmistakable sharpness that defined Claude.

_But…_

It was unmistakable. No matter how many times Byleth turned her head one way and the other, blinking and rubbing her eyes to clear them, it was unmistakable. Even with Claude’s shivering form she could see the contrast set into his eyes.

The Crest of House Riegan, the crescent moon gifted by the Goddess to Riegan of the Ten Elites and passed down his descendant, curled neatly around Claude’s pupils. Centered perfectly and a darker green than his iris, oh so easily noticeable from any angle.

What the _hell?_

“Guessing from the look on your face, you wouldn’t know about this Professor?” Hanneman said, ever patient with the glimmer of a incoming _Crest lecture _shining in his eyes. He leaned in and squished Claude’s cheeks, tilting his head up down left right, observing _something _as he talked on. “Every now and then a Crest bearer tends to get a bit sick. It’s a drawback of sorts, in exchange for the power of Crests. This sickness typically changes form according to where the Crest is from,” He jots down his observation in a notebook, _where did that come from?_ And continued his examination, now pulling at Claude’s eyelids and exposing the Riegan Crest further, completely unperturbed by Claude’s squirming.

“Claude here is currently in the throes of ‘Crest sickness’. As you no doubt felt for yourself, he’s cold to the touch! A common form of Crest sickness within the Leicester Alliance territory.” He finished his inspection of Claude’s eyes and stood, dusting off his slacks. “They’re unfortunately more agonizing at a younger age, poor thing.” Byleth passes a look over Hanneman’s notes, spying various herbs and roots and other ingredients she’s never even read of before listed off to the side. 

“If it’s not too much trouble, can I ask you to stay here with him? I’m going to the infirmary to procure medicine for what ails him.” Full attention is turned to her as Hanneman closes his notebook and Claude glowers, silent and shivering and definitely _not _pouting. A small nod has Hanneman beaming and with a quick ‘thank you’ he was off.

Immediately after Hanneman’s departure does Claude scramble to cocoon himself again, but it’s long since after the senior’s footsteps were gone that he chatters out “I’m totally gonna sneeze on you, Teach,” before slumping over Byleth’s lap, using her as a temporary heat source.

She shifts him over onto her lap, encasing what she could with her arms while swimming in fabric. It seemed like the right move though, as Claude sank down in relaxation. His tremors were still present but less intense, being chilly for a little while was a small price to pay for him to be more comfortable. The trek from the noble dorms to the infirmary was a long one, and even with Hanneman’s stride he was still an old man. With nothing left to do with Claude now fading from consciousness on her lap and effectively trapping her on the spot, Byleth slumped over his body. Her back will complain later but it served to help Claude, more pressure and heat warming his body. It wasn’t long after that Byleth heard soft snoring, albeit strained and shuddered out but proof enough that Claude was sleeping.

It was a bad idea, both Byleth’s thoughts and back said, but nonetheless she closed her eyes. Hanneman would wake her up to give Claude his medicine, so she wouldn’t be asleep more than a few minutes. Her uniform constricted against Claude’s weight, and she could feel her back already settling in as an act of defiance against her wishes, but Byleth still laid there atop the mountain that was her student.

Just a few minutes of rest, just until Hanneman woke her up and she had to leave. Until she’s forced to think of stretching out her pains, she’ll leave her problems for her future self.

Just a few minutes, just until Hanneman comes back. Until then, just a few minutes of rest.

* * *

It takes a week for Claude to recover and come back to class. Raphael and Ignatz, ever two of the Goddess' personal angels, delivered study sheets and assignments to him personally.

Byleth's back is _still_ sore like no tomorrow, but there was little she could do about it. Turned out that Manuela didn't have any more of whatever root Hanneman needed, so they scoured the monastery back and forth looking for anyone who would have it while Byleth slept away atop of Claude. The sun was near set when Hanneman returned with a bitter potion for Claude to gulp down with a recommendation of getting plenty rest and a promise of more medicine incoming for the coming days.

It was entirely her fault for sure, and Byleth wasn't the least bit happy about it. So the surprise of a neatly stacked pile of sweets and fresh rose she found on her desk after class were a welcome surprise.

There was no note or sign whatsoever to show who it was from, but it wasn't a difficult mystery to solve. Claude was a weasel when he wanted to be, but it was her guess that even he couldn't figure out a way of saying 'thank you' to her face without being completely embarrassed and forced to leave the monastery.

Ah, well. After popping open one of her boxes of newly acquired confections, Byleth decides that she'll allow Claude to get away with it this one time. Next time he does something like this though she'll could flaunt it to the whole vicinity, and then some. If there ever was a next time. Hanneman never told her how often bearers got sick, so who knows? Could be next month could be next year.

She munched on one of many tiny cakes pulled from her gift, delighting in the citrus flavor. In honestly it seemed a bit over the top for a thank you gift, but who was she to deny it? It could be used a pre-apology for whatever he does in the future. Probably not the most acceptable teacher conduct but what could be the worse to happened.

Byleth stretched and felt her joints pop one by one as she finished off the last bits of her treat. Papers needed reviewing and exams needed to made, and they weren't going to work themselves. They were a hassle but she would be scolded if they weren't done in time, by Seteth and Rhea both— _extensively_. She has a busy woman, and busy women didn't have time to worry over how their students are emotionally dictated by their hormones and obsession with how they look to others.

Yes, she was very busy. No time to waste. No room for delaying her work. Work will definitely work on.

'_I made an attempt, and that should what counts_', Byleth thinks, with another cake plucked out and shoved into her mouth. She has no intention of getting in trouble, but it was only so often that she received noble grade sweets. A little rest wouldn't hurt.

Just a few minutes, just until she's had her fill of sweets. Just a few minutes, and she's be working hard. Until then, she'll munch away.

**Author's Note:**

> "Whoaaa Professor! You met with Claude while he was Crest sick? You're so brave!" Hilda's eyes are shining, the Crest of Goneril dully illuminating in her wide eyes with admiration. Byleth cocks her head to the side, clearly confused. It wasn't infectious disease, so why would she be praised for her bravery?
> 
> "Wait wait wait- you actually don't know? That might not be good..." Hilda's word offer no explanation so Byleth tilts her head further, eyebrows lightly knit together.
> 
> "Well it's just that... It's honestly something more of a superstition but when Crest bearers spend time together, or when a bearer spends time with someone going their their sickness, their sicknesses tend to... Sync or trigger the other person's? Hahahaha...?"


End file.
